The Pursuit of Mary Bennet (25 page)

Chapter 29

T
he week of the wedding came at last, and guests began arriving. Among them were my two elder sisters and their families, all of whom were lodging at Netherfield. Nobody took me aside to inform me of the imminent nuptials of Mr. Walsh and Miss Bellcourt, or even to warn me of the serious nature of their attachment. Perhaps my sisters were desirous of protecting my feelings, or maybe they’d learned nothing from Andrew. It seemed pointless to speculate.

About my aunt Gardiner’s actions on my behalf I had no need to conjecture. I’d received a response from her only a few days after she would have been in receipt of my letter. It was short and to the point. She had two families in mind, both unexceptionable, whom she believed were in need of governesses. Although she didn’t discourage me, she urged me to use all caution and prudence in choosing this life for myself. She ended by saying she knew my parents and sisters would not wish me to rush into anything, and we would speak about this when she arrived for the wedding. That suited me well, because when the celebration was over, the newlyweds off to their new life, and the guests gone home, I was most eager to inform my family of my plans. I desired no delays; in fact, it would please me to return with my aunt and uncle Gardiner to London if possible.

Andrew, Henry, and Mrs. Walsh were lodging at a coaching inn in Meryton. Andrew wasted no time in visiting his bride, but of Mr. Walsh we saw nothing. I tried to put him from my thoughts.

When my aunt reached us, she begged my indulgence in delaying our conversation regarding the secret matter. “My dear, your mother is quite unable to exert herself to accomplish anything. May our discussion wait until after the wedding?”

Of course she was right. Mama had thrown herself into a state of agitation equal to what she had experienced prior to Jane and Elizabeth’s wedding. My aunt, indeed all of us, had to assume her duties. We organized the servants, designated chambers for guests who would be lodging with us, planned the menu for the wedding breakfast, and ensured that our guests would have excellent fare at table and all the comforts a good host would provide. None of us truly minded, because it was an exciting time. Another sister to be wed! And Kitty went about in a cloud of joy, especially after Andrew’s arrival.

The day before the wedding, she hovered near the windows watching for him. Jane and I were upstairs discussing my wedding finery. She had brought several gowns with her from which I could choose. My gaze lingered on the apricot crape dress, the one I wore to the Pennington ball. “I should like to wear this one again, if you think it would suit,” I said.

“It’s perfect, Mary,” my sister said. By the crooked little smile she gave me, I knew she also remembered when I’d last worn it. “We shall have to make a few adjustments, since the wedding is in the morning. Add a lace tucker, perhaps remove the flounce.”

Suddenly I heard Kitty cry out. “Andrew is come. And Henry too!”

I glanced at myself in the pier glass, not pleased with what I saw. A silent understanding passed between Jane and me. She dropped the crape gown, rifled through the other clothes she’d brought, and offered something entirely different. “Change into this frock, dear.” She held out a white muslin dress with a rose band under the bosom.

“But that’s not exactly a day dress, is it? I don’t want him to think . . .” I felt my cheeks flush. What didn’t I want him to think? That I was trying to impress him?

“Yes, it is a day dress, only a little fancier than your usual ones. You can wear a tucker at the neckline. Perfectly proper.” She bit her bottom lip. If I was not mistaken, my eldest sister was trying very hard to quell a grin. But I was beyond caring what she thought, or what she might tell Elizabeth or Charles, or even Mr. Darcy.

I quickly disrobed and changed into Jane’s dress, and in a moment I was seated at the dressing table while Jane repinned my hair. She let a few ringlets dangle at the neckline, which I thought a bit daring for daytime, but I allowed it.

“You look quite pretty, Mary. Are you ready?”

I nodded, even though my stomach was fidgeting about. Downstairs, the men were just making their entrance. I shook hands with Andrew, and then with Henry. “You look well, Miss Bennet,” he said.

“Thank you.” He looked so handsome in a blue morning coat and buckskin britches, he quite startled me out of my senses.
Quit staring, Mary, and say something, for the Lord’s sake.

“Please, do come in and take some refreshments,” Jane said. Thank heaven someone could speak.

We gathered in the downstairs sitting room, and not long after, my mother, and even my father, joined us. A footman carried in a meal of cold meats, cheese, rolls, and cakes. Mr. Walsh walked over to speak to Papa. Owing to my position on the sofa, I caught only a little of their conversation, but it seemed field drainage was the subject. No doubt Henry was asking about the work that had been done for the tenants, and if it had proved to be effective. Mama was teasing Kitty and Andrew about wedding jitters. Jane whispered in my ear, “You and Mr. Walsh need some privacy. Why not ask him if he would care for a walk?”

“What? No! That would be too forward.”

Jane heaved a sigh. She leaned back in her chair and a scheming look spread over her face. Before I could stop her, she was on her feet and walking toward Papa.

“I do beg your pardon, Mr. Walsh, but I must speak with my father on an urgent matter.” She took a firm hold of Papa’s arm and began guiding him away. Her voice had carried so that we all heard, and Mama immediately responded as might have been expected.

“Jane! What could be so urgent as to interrupt a conversation between your papa and Mr. Walsh?” Jane gave a quick wink in our mother’s direction. Kitty and Andrew smiled at each other in a knowing way, while I wished to sink into the floor.

But her ploy worked. Henry was suddenly at my side. “Would you care to walk out with me, Miss Bennet? The weather is fine.”

“I would enjoy that. Do I need a wrap?”

“There’s a slight chill in the air. I’ll wait for you at the entryway while you fetch one.”

We set off down the lane, both of us quiet at first. It was a clear, shining autumn day, and I hoped tomorrow would be the same, for the nuptials. “Do you recall our discussion regarding which was our favorite season?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“This is exactly the kind of day I had in mind when I told you I loved autumn above all the others.”

“You said the air ‘shimmers.’ ” He made a show of looking about, and then, chuckling, he said, “I must agree with you. I believe it does. However, I still love spring best.”

“We shall continue to disagree, then. Your mother is well?” I asked, feeling remiss that I hadn’t asked after her sooner.

“Oh, yes. She is most eager to see you again. I quite like your father, Mary,” he said, rather unexpectedly.

“He can be very affable, when he troubles himself to emerge from his library. I suppose with the burden of six females in the house for so many years, he needed a retreat.”

Henry laughed. “Some men would not view that as a burden.” He looked down at me, his eyes teasing. “He seems affectionate with all of you.”

“He is, in his way. My father has always been especially fond of Jane and Elizabeth. You see, my parents . . . have not had the happiest of unions.” I felt my cheeks warm. Why was I confiding such a thing? “I believe he transferred his affections to my eldest sisters, the most sensible and engaging of all of us.”

“I would take exception to that.” He drew my arm through his, pulling me closer in so doing. I smiled, not daring to look at him directly. “Neither were my parents happy in their marriage. My own father was gruff and distant. I often wonder why my mother married him.”

“Will you tell me, if it’s not too intrusive a question, did you ever reconcile with your father after Amelia came to live with you?”

“No.” He glanced at me, his expression sad. But there was a hard set to his jaw, as well. “He was ashamed, I believe. Until the day he died, he was ashamed of Amelia, and most certainly of me. He withdrew from society, and eventually from life.”

“I’m sorry. A rift such as that must be heartbreaking.”

“I hope to overcome my bitterness toward him someday. With the years, the memories are fading. Of course his actions made my mother very unhappy, too, which I find hard to forgive. She’s the most generous of women.”

“I thought her a most kind and warm person,” I said. “For the sake of my parents, I’m hoping, no doubt foolishly, that once all of us are gone my father and mother will grow closer, since they will only have each other.”

Henry came to an abrupt halt. “Do you have plans, then, to leave Longbourn?”

“I-I am thinking of taking a governess position. In town.” I stammered, not having anticipated that this subject would arise between us. Given the turn the conversation had taken, it seemed only natural to tell him about my plans.

“I see. You never said . . . I didn’t know you were thinking of this.”

“No. I haven’t even told my family. I decided to wait until after the wedding, as I know it will cause an uproar.”

“In London, you say?”

“Yes. My aunt and uncle live in Cheapside and know several families with young children. She—my aunt Gardiner—has suggested two in particular who may need a governess.” He made no response, and I could only imagine what he must have been thinking. Another embarrassment for the Bennet family; a brash daughter running off to town to place herself on one of the lower rungs of society. Deliberately.

I could not keep silent. “You do not approve.”

“If this is what you truly want, what would make you happy, it is not for me to question your decision.”

I should not have told him. But some part of me had wanted him to know. Before he could announce his engagement to Miss Bellcourt, he would learn that I had plans of my own. If he didn’t want me, there would be no cause for pity. I was not destined to waste away here at Longbourn.

What hopes I had held for a different outcome to this conversation vanished. In a few moments, Henry suggested we should be getting back. When we entered the drawing room, Jane looked at me expectantly. I couldn’t meet her eyes. The two visitors remained for most of the day, but Henry and I did not speak privately again. In fact, I felt his aloofness like a rebuke.

Chapter 30

M
r. Collins, please!” Charlotte Collins’s voice intruded on her husband’s recitation of the numerous ill-considered actions of the Bennet sisters. But it was as if she had not spoken. He went right on, seemingly unaware that some of those present might find his words offensive.

The ceremony having taken place earlier that morning, we were now enjoying the wedding breakfast. The vicar, the very one whom Kitty had poked fun at due to his advanced age, performed the ceremony, and my sister and her new husband had been casting adoring looks at each other ever since. I, too, basked in their glow, until Mr. Collins began his declarations. Could I slip unobtrusively from the room?

“The two eldest daughters, Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy, are exemplary in their behavior,” he said in his pompous way. His listeners stood in a small cluster, and they were few—Charlotte; her parents, Sir William and Lady Lucas; and her sister, Maria. Several other small groups of guests were within earshot, however.

“Although Elizabeth . . . well, never mind. It shall go unsaid.”

Excellent decision, since Mr. Darcy would probably call you out if you uttered one word against Lizzy.

“I cautioned my cousin Mr. Bennet on many occasions to end his overindulgence of the other girls.” He ceased talking, but only long enough to draw breath and survey the room to see who was listening. Did he not notice Mr. Darcy standing not three feet away, in conversation with Henry Walsh?

“The family is fortunate, after the most recent scandal, that Kitty found a husband. I told Mrs. Bennet when we arrived, however, that any chance Mary may have had for a happy union now seems out of the question. Mrs. Wickham’s actions have tainted the poor girl.” He smirked, making his expression even more self-satisfied than usual. “Her own mother said there was not much chance to begin with. Mary, while a good enough girl, is bookish, and most men—”

This was the point at which Charlotte interjected. As I backed away on tiptoe, I heard Henry say to Mr. Darcy, “Who is this person?”

“Have you not had the pleasure, Walsh?” my brother-in-law asked. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife’s relation, Mr. Collins.”

The last thing I saw before I fled the room was Henry and Mr. Collins eyeing each other in an antagonistic way. My cousin nodded curtly; Henry did not acknowledge the introduction in any way and soon resumed his conversation with Mr. Darcy.

T
o think that my own mother had informed Mr. Collins that she thought I would never marry! And he repeated her words in the company of all the wedding guests. Could I hide until the celebration was over? Henry’s refusal to acknowledge my tactless cousin, equivalent to a direct cut, warmed my heart. Blast! If only I hadn’t ruined everything and thrown Henry into the arms of Miss Bellcourt.

Drawing my shawl around my shoulders more closely, I walked toward the avenue. The day had begun with a downpour, which most fortuitously had let up before the wedding. Now the mist had burned off, and the sun fought valiantly for dominance, warming my back and neck. The air felt fresh, washed of any impurities by this morning’s rain. I slowed, thinking I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I glimpsed the very man who occupied my thoughts striding toward me, and I stopped to wait for him. It would have been rude to do otherwise.

“Mary,” he said almost curtly.

“I—”

“My pardon, but I do not like listening to your boorish, idiotic cousin insulting you. Nor do I like it any better to hear of your own mother doing so.” He walked ahead of me and spun abruptly to face me. “I did not care for it when Kitty and your sister Lydia made snide comments about you, either. What possesses these people?” He flung out his arms, as if beseeching me for an answer.

I wanted to laugh but held myself in check. For once it was not my face that was flushed, but his. Not from embarrassment, but from anger.

“Mr. Walsh—”

“Henry. You agreed.”

A big smile broke out. “Henry, I thank you for your concern and your spirited defense of me. But you should know that in the not-too-distant past, I deserved their censure.” He started to speak, but I held up a hand to forestall him. “Perhaps not to the degree it was heaped upon me, but I was . . . I used to be, well, somewhat foolish.”

“I have never counted you as such.” He took a step closer to me.

“You have a great deal of forbearance, sir. There was a time in our acquaintance during which I behaved very foolishly.”

“Yes, you did. But I believe you are wiser now.” Another step closer. “My own behavior had nothing to recommend it.”

“I cannot disagree with you on that point.”

“Are you determined to go through with this plan to become a governess, Mary?”

I laughed, and now he stood close enough for me to see the smoothness of his face, the strong line of his jaw, and the unusual blue eyes I’d come to love so well. “Yes, I suppose I am. Why do you ask?” I added.

“Because it would be most inconvenient. I would not like having a wife who lived at such a distance from me.”

I staggered backward, nearly toppling over when my one of my slippers slid on the gravel. Henry put out a hand to steady me. “I beg your pardon?” I said.

“No indeed, that would not do at all. I think I would want you close by me at all times.”

“But we heard—that is, I thought your betrothal to another lady was imminent.”

“That rumor traveled all the way to Longbourn, did it?” He chuckled. “Nonsense. There is only one woman I love.”

“Who?” I asked, feeling ridiculous, since the answer was obvious. When I looked into his eyes, if I was not mistaken, it
was
love I saw there. But still, I wanted him to tell me.

Henry took my face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs across my cheeks. Tears pooled in my eyes and traced a path down my face. “You, my dearest girl. You have besieged my heart.” He leaned in and kissed the tears away. “Will you accept me this time, Mary?”

I nodded, sniffling indelicately. “Oh, yes. I will. Of course I will.”

“Amelia needs a mother, you know.”

The breath rushed out of me. But when I looked at Henry, I realized he was teasing me.

“I can only say how fortunate I am that the woman I love will be—has shown herself to be—a most devoted mother.”

I placed my hands on his chest. Most certainly this was too bold, but I didn’t know where else to put them, and I had an overwhelming need to touch him. “Will this be all right with Amelia? Do you think she can love me someday?”

“She has already expressed the opinion that you are her favorite of any lady I have ever introduced to her.”

“Does that include Miss Bellcourt?” I asked, arching a brow at him.

He scowled. “Amelia would have taken an instant dislike to her. She has no warmth about her. Let’s not talk of her, please.”

Before pulling me close, he said in a low, teasing voice, “You are lovely. Did you wear this gown just for me?”

And for a few moments, we did not talk at all. We found a much more pleasurable occupation for our lips and mouths and, to my surprise, tongues.

B
efore Henry and his mother departed, he took me aside. Since we did not wish to arouse suspicion, we had only a few moments to speak privately. Even though the newlyweds had left long before, we agreed it would be best to wait until the next day to make our announcement. The men had arranged a shooting party for the morning. Henry would speak to my father beforehand, while I told my mother and sisters the news. Afterward he would take himself off with Charles and Mr. Darcy for the sport.

“I think you should bring your mother to spend the morning with us,” I said. “She must be part of our celebration.”

“How kind of you to think of her. I can’t wait until tomorrow to give her the news, however. I shall tell her tonight.”

“You believe she will be pleased, then?”

“She has done nothing but sing your praises ever since the day we all spent together at Linden Hall.”

“Even after . . .”

“Yes, even after you spurned me so cruelly.”

I knew he was teasing me again, but the mere thought of that painful day by the river made me cringe with embarrassment. “Oh, don’t mention that. I shall never get over my shame!”

He laughed. “Until tomorrow, my dearest Mary.”

My knees felt weak.

W
hen Henry and his mother arrived the following morning, and I saw him whisper to my father, I thought I might lose what little breakfast I’d been able to eat. Jane and Lizzy had been giving me inquisitive looks since last night, and they were no longer bothering to hide their smiles. My mother seemed to be the only one who had not an inkling that Henry Walsh, at this very moment, was asking for my hand in marriage.

“I am so pleased you could join us,” I said to Mrs. Walsh as we settled ourselves in the drawing room. She squeezed my hand, and, to my surprise, I noticed a gloss of tears in her eyes. But she was fully in command of herself.

She spoke in a low voice, since she knew I had not told my family yet. “I have waited so long for Henry to find just the right wife. My son deserves so much happiness, and I believe he will find it with you, Mary.”

“Thank you, ma’am. And now I must not delay the news any longer.” I took a steadying breath. “Mama, Jane, Lizzy. I have something to tell you.”

My sisters could hardly contain their glee, while my mother simply looked perplexed. “Well, what is it, Mary?” she asked.

“Mr. Walsh—Henry—has asked for my hand and I have accepted. He is speaking to Papa right now.”

“Oh!” Mama fell back onto the sofa. Nobody paid her the least attention. In the meantime, my sisters embraced me joyfully. Of course, they prodded me for the details, but I thought those would best be shared when we were alone. For now, a simple explanation would suffice.

“He asked me yesterday afternoon, but we thought the day should belong to Kitty and Andrew alone. This morning seemed the perfect time for him to speak to Papa, and for me to tell all of you.”

My mother sprang up from her prostrate position, seemingly having recovered herself. “Upon my honor! All my daughters married. I thought you would remain a spinster, Mary, I must admit. And I was depending on you to care for your father and me in our decline.” She sounded embarrassingly sad.

Jane leaped in. “Oh, Mama, you know we will all care for you and Papa. And that time is a long way off, in any case.”

“But you will all be so far away from us, clear up in horrid Derbyshire.”

“And you may spend as much time with each of us as you desire,” Elizabeth said. “You will never lack for an invitation from one of us.”

She visibly brightened. “I suppose you are right. Mary, you deceitful creature! How long have you known this was to be?”

“I knew nothing until yesterday, Mama.”

Before she could pry further, Henry and my father entered the room. I caught Henry’s eye, and he nodded imperceptibly. I felt relieved, although I’d hardly expected Papa to withhold his consent.

“I see you have all received the good news,” Papa said. He turned to my mother. “My dear, we are to lose another daughter. I console myself with the knowledge that Mr. Walsh is the best of men.” He came over to me and kissed me on both cheeks.

“Thank you, Papa,” I whispered.

“I shall miss you, Mary. You have brought me comfort these last few years.”

Tears filled my eyes then. It was the closest my father had ever come to saying he cared for me. That my presence here since Lizzy and Jane left had meant something to him. If it had not been for the sudden entrance of Mr. Darcy and Charles, with their accompanying hounds making all kinds of racket, I would have wept. Instead, we swept them up in the news, setting off a new round of kisses and congratulations.

My father passed around glasses of wine for a toast, and Mama told Mrs. Hill to treat the servants to a bowl of punch.

“What a shame our aunt and uncle had to leave so early this morning,” Jane said. “They will be so happy when they hear the news.” Our uncle Gardiner had many business interests in town and could never be away for long.

“When is the wedding to be?” Charles asked.

Henry and I looked at each other. “I don’t know,” I said, at the same time he said, “Soon.” Everybody laughed.

“Will you be married from Longbourn?” Mama asked.

“We haven’t discussed any of the particulars yet,” I said.

“I have a splendid idea!” Jane said. “Why not be married from High Tor? I would guess you will want Andrew to marry you, so that would be perfect.”

Mama fussed. “But—”

Jane cut her off. “It would give you and Papa a chance to meet Henry’s family and see Mary’s new home.”

My mother did not yet know about Amelia, although Henry and I had agreed he should inform Papa. I hoped nobody would mention her now, as one could never be sure of my mother’s reaction, or what ludicrously offensive statement she might come out with.

Mrs. Walsh looked at my mother. “I would be delighted to have your company at Linden Hall. And Mrs. Bingley is right—the rest of the family will wish to meet you.”

Mama relented. “Well, I suppose I can be content that three of my girls married from here.”